


you outshine the morning sun

by paperdream



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Fic, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, malcolm pre name change, tags rating and warnings may change, the malcolm/ofc is brief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-02 22:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21169169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdream/pseuds/paperdream
Summary: When Malcolm finds out he's going to be a father, he knows he wants to be there for his daughter the way no one was for him.He also knows that Martin Whitly can never be allowed to find out she exists.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. Title from Hamilton, natch.

**February 2014**

_ Hey, can we meet up sometime? It’s important._

Malcolm read the text and the following discussion of location and time for the third time since arriving at the coffee shop. At no point had he been able to convince Serena to tell him what, exactly, she wanted to meet about- although it didn’t take a profiler to figure out it wasn’t a booty call. And now she was half an hour late.

He was about ready to write the whole meeting off as some sort of prank- it wouldn’t be the first time he was lured to a meeting under false pretenses after someone connected the dots between _says his last name is Whitly_ and _his dad is the Surgeon_, even though he would’ve mentioned his surname when they met nearly half a year ago and not since, and it had been nearly two months since their relationship had fizzled- when Serena breezed through the doorway, still in her flight attendant uniform with hair coming loose from its neat updo. She scanned the half-full shop and clicked over on sensible heels when she spotted him, a rueful smile on her face.

“Hey, sorry. My flight was late getting in. I’m just going to grab something and then we can- talk.” She bustled off to the counter without waiting for a response, leaving Malcolm to ponder her odd behavior. Her stress reactions- the sheen of sweat on her face, the jerky speech, the dilated eyes- could be down to anxiety over her tardiness, but he didn’t think so. In their handful of previous interactions she’d seemed much too relaxed for something as simple as that to have her so on edge.

When she slid into the seat across from him with a sigh, Malcolm pulled out of his contemplation with an ill-fitting smile. “Don’t worry about the time. Like I said when you texted, my evening’s free. How was your day?”

She seemed grateful for his taking over the conversation, giving her the chance to gulp down some coffee and a few bites of her cinnamon roll before responding. “The usual. I really am sorry, I thought I’d given myself enough time even if the flight was late but our copilot went over his hours and we had to wait for a replacement- it doesn’t matter. How are you?”

“Fine.” Even without the specter of whatever was making Serena so nervous hanging over them, they’d never met up in a way that required conversation like this, and the silence after his too-short answer dragged. Malcolm sipped at his now-lukewarm coffee and eyed his still untouched muffin, but decided against taking a bite.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask you to come here so ominously and then make you wonder- sorry I’m just trying to think of how to say this.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Take all the time you need.” He ran through the possibilities he’d been pondering since her first text: she needed money; she had a mysteriously missing or murdered relative and was hoping an occasional-sex-buddies relationship with an FBI agent could convince him to crack the case; she’d figured out who his father was and was angry about it; she’d figured out who his father was and was one of those weird serial killer fangirls who wanted to know what it was like to be raised by _the Surgeon_….

“I’m pregnant.”

His musings ground to a halt. He quashed his first urge, to bring up the contraceptives they’d used- he knew the potential failure rates, and given the way Serena was fidgeting with her cup he doubted she would have lied about any of them- and instead levelled his voice into as neutral a tone as he could manage, “And you think it’s mine.”

She darted a glance up at him, half sarcastic and half hysterical, “There’s _no way_ it’s anyone else’s.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay. What do you want to do about it?” _What do you want _me_ to do about it? _“…Whatever it is, I can help you pay for it. I…”

She huffed a half-laugh, “I’m keeping it. Definitely, I’m keeping it.” She laid a hand absently against her abdomen, eyes distant.

He nodded. “Okay. How far along are you?” _Did you ever put together who my father is? Do you really want to bring a serial killer’s grandchild into the world?_

“About four months. I should find out the sex at my ultrasound next week.”

“Okay.” He didn’t seem to be able to say anything else. _Okay, okay, okay…. _“You… I mean, I don’t know if you… Do you know about my, uh, _family_?”

She chewed her lip. “You mean your dad?” He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, before Serena said, much faster than anything else in their conversation so far. “Look, if I had a problem with the whole your-dad-being-a-murderer thing I wouldn’t have told you, I would have just left your space on the birth certificate blank and never talked to you again. But I thought you should know. I don’t want anything, or anything, I just thought you should know.”

“Okay.” He pulled the wrapper off of his muffin and started crumbling it to bits between his fingers. “I’d like to know it. Them. The kid. If that’s alright with you. And even if… either way, I don’t want to leave you on your own. I’ll pay child support, whatever else you want no problem.” He nodded to himself absently, reconciling the idea of having an unknown kid out there, half-Malcolm _(a quarter Martin)_, paying for their school and making sure they were taken care of, but never knowing them. He’d suspected that the thing between him and Serena had died out because she’d found him, his demeanor, the restraints on his bed the one time they’d gone to his place instead of hers, all _too weird_.

“I’d like that. I want my kid to have a father involved in their life, if you’re willing.” She smiled, and some of the tension leaked out of her shoulders.

His head snapped up. “Really?”

The smile flickered. “I mean, if you don’t want to you don’t half to. No obligation, I don’t need money, any of it, I just thought you had a right to know, I mean-”

“No!” Too loud, he said that too loud. “I mean it, all of it. I just thought you…” _wouldn’t want me_. “I want to be involved with them, with the baby, as much as you’re willing to let me!” His heart was beating way too fast, and he suspected he looked unnervingly manic.

“Great. I’d like that.” The smile was back full force.

“Okay.” He chewed his tongue. “Can we continue this conversation later, though? I think I need time to… process.”

“Sure.” Serena looked nearly as grateful as he was to cut the conversation short. “I’ll text you?”

He bobbed his head, scooping up the remains of his muffin. “Great. Um. See you around.”

He maintained a normal walking speed all the way to the trash can to throw out his muffin, out the door, and a block and a half away, well out of sight of the coffee shop, before the enormity of the conversation caught up with him and he sagged against a random wall. A _kid_. A baby, subject to all his cursed family history and baggage. Another person tied to his father’s name, a little innocent life for Martin Whitly to poison and steal…

His stomach was churning, it was a good thing he never actually _ate _any of that muffin. His breath speeding up, Malcolm pulled out his phone and dialed the first number that came to mind.

“Malcolm! How are you, honey?”

He started slightly. He wasn’t sure why, but some part of him had expected this to be one of the few times Gil was the one to answer the Arroyo’s landline. “Hi, Jackie.”

“Are you alright? You sound stressed.”

“Um. Yeah? I’ve just had kind of. A weird day. And need someone to talk to?”

He can practically hear her nodding sympathetically. “You know I’m always here for that, sweetheart. Or I can get Gil if you want, he’s just in the other room.”

Faintly, Malcolm can hear in the background of the call, “What about me?”

“Oh, here he is now! Do you want me to hand him the phone or tell him to buzz off?”

“Can I talk to both of you? This is… I don’t know.”

“Sure thing, I’m putting the phone on speaker.” As an aside she added, “It’s Malcolm.”

“Hey, kid,” Gil said, the quality of the call changing as it switched over to speaker. “What’s up?”

“I got a girl pregnant.” He wanted to take back the words as soon as he’s said them. They sounded so juvenile, like he’s a high schooler instead of an independent adult. “I just- she says she’s going to keep it, and I said I’d help, and then I started thinking and- I can’t be a dad, Gil!”

“Take a deep breath, Malcolm.” Gil’s voice was reassuringly steady. “Come on, I’ll count it out for you. Breathe in….”

Malcolm obeyed, and slowly his heartbeat returned to a more normal tempo. “I can’t be a dad. No one ever- I can’t be _my _dad! This kid doesn’t deserve me as a father, _no one_ does! I don’t know what to do!”

“Malcolm,” Jackie said evenly, “How did you feel about all this _before _you started worrying about it? Think back and tell me that.”

He swallowed. “Um. Surprised. Happy, maybe, I think.”

“Do you _want_ to be in this baby’s life?”

“_Yes_, but Jackie!”

“But what, Malcolm?” He floundered, knowing what he wanted to say but also knowing her response. Jackie continued steadily forward. “You’re not your father, Malcolm. It’s just as true now as it was when you were applying to Quantico, or starting college, or trying out for the basketball team. It will always be true. Okay?”

“Yes, Jackie.”

“If you’re happy, we’re happy, kid,” Gil added. “If you want to be, you’ll be a great dad. We can figure this out, okay? It’s all going to work out fine.”

“Thanks, Gil.”

“Do you want to tell us about the girl?” Now that the crisis seemed averted, Jackie’s voice had gone from steady to insistently curious.

“Um. Sure. Her name’s Serena, we weren’t dating or anything, just-” A thought hit him, and Malcolm almost dropped the phone, heartrate skyrocketing. “Oh, no.”

“What is it, honey?”

“How am I going to tell my _mom_?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost twice as long as the first, because I'm a trashfire.

He started home to the sounds of Gil and Jackie laughing at him over the phone, conversation eventually turning from how to tell his mother about Serena to more normal things: how was work, had he been sleeping, was he eating? He told the usual lies and half-truths and the Arroyos pretended to believe him; by the time he was unlocking his apartment he felt more normal than he had since receiving Serena’s text. Telling anyone else could wait until morning, he decided as he farewelled the Arroyos and fed Sunshine.

He stroked the little bird’s head softly. Sunshine had been a gift from Ainsley two Christmases ago. A parakeet wasn’t a kid, but he hadn’t hurt or killed Sunshine in all the time he’d had her. She probably ate better than he did some days.

“Goodnight, Sunshine.” He placed her back in her cage and started to pull of his suit jacket and ready for bed.

He padded down the hallway, stomach warm and full of hot chocolate and half asleep already. He was so tired he almost didn’t hear the strange noise coming from down the hall, but once he had he couldn’t seem to focus on anything else.

“Hello?” he called. The whining and thumping continued unaffected, and his feet seemed drawn to the sound. “Dad?”

He peered around the door cautiously. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be here, in Dad’s hobby room, but he had to know what was making that noise. Directly in front of the door sat a massive trunk, shifting slightly as whatever was inside banged against the interior.

He glanced over his shoulder before slipping into the room and approaching the box. His hands reached for the latches as if outside of his control.

_Don’t open it! Don’t open it!_

He pushed the lid up and stared at the contents. Swaddled in a nest of blankets, a baby stared up from inside the box. The whining and thumping was gone- the baby just looked at him with wide eyes, not crying or making any noise at all. He shifted to take a step back. The baby started to chew gummily on a few of its fingers.

A heavy hand clasped Malcolm’s shoulder, and he jumped. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

He looked up into his father’s smiling face. He wanted to run away from this whole confusing scene, but the hand on his shoulder was gripping too tightly. “What’s happening?”

“She’s yours, my boy!” Martin knelt so he could wrap his arm around the front of Malcolm’s torso, gazing lovingly into the box. “Another little Whitly. She’s going to be just like us, Malcolm. She’s going to be incredible.”

The scene shifted and melted away. He stood several feet taller than he had a moment ago, infant held close against his Harvard sweater. His father took a step toward him, chain clinking behind him. His arms felt leaden, unable to keep his father from taking the baby from his arms. Martin held her expertly, letting the baby grip one of his fingers in her little hand.

“Give her back!” He hadn’t known what to do with the baby when she was in his arms, but now that she was gone he wanted her back there desperately. He stepped forward to take her but his father turned, putting his shoulder between Malcolm and a clear view of the baby.

“Don’t worry, Malcolm. I’ll take good care of her.” He looked up from the baby in his arms, beaming, “I can’t wait to meet her!”

Unusually, Malcolm woke from his nightmare without screaming or jerking against his restraints. His arms were held close against his chest, grasping something that wasn’t there, and his teeth were clenched so tightly that the molded plastic of his mouthguard was cutting into his gums painfully. He laid like that for a long moment, trying to process his dream.

The sun was shining through the window- he’d slept through the night. Slowly, he climbed out of bed and started his morning routine. His nightmares often seemed to hover over his life like a dark cloud, but they rarely left such a deep sense of unease. The card with his daily affirmation on it- “Happiness is for everyone”- seemed overlaid with the image of his father’s grinning face.

He didn’t call his mother before work. He moved through the morning on autopilot, the night’s dream echoing through his mind and distracting him until his supervisor finally told him to take an early lunch and “get his head on straight. Or as straight as it ever is.”

Sitting with his lunch in a secluded corner of the parking lot and staring at his phone, Malcolm took the coward’s way out. He dialed Ainsley first.

“Hello?”

He forced a smile so it would show in his voice, “Hey Ains.”

“Hi Malcolm! What’s up, you don’t usually call during the week?” She sounded bright and unworried. The one Whitly their father never poisoned.

He’d thought about how to say this, discussed it with Gil and Jackie last night, but when the moment came to actually say something what came out of his mouth was, “I need advice on how to tell Mom I got a girl pregnant.”

The silence that follows was one of the longest he’d ever experienced. Finally, Ainsley said, “Hypothetically, right? This is all hypothetical? Because I _know _that that’s not how you’d break the news to me if it was real.”

He winced. “Um.”

“Malcolm!” Her voice took on the tone that meant she wanted to shout but couldn’t because it would be rude. “I can’t believe you!”

“I’m sorry, please don’t hang up!” he spluttered. Ainsley responded with a huffy growl, but didn’t drop the call. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- It’s just been. A lot.”

“So when you say pregnant, do you mean she’s-going-to-have-and-raise-the-kid-pregnant, or abortion-pregnant?” She still sounded mad, but she was always better at pushing aside emotion to focus on the problem than him.

“She’s having it. And… we’re not together, but she says I can be. You know. Involved in the kid’s life.” He felt like he was swallowing back conflicting emotions with every word.

“And you want to be involved?”

“Yeah.” As he said it, his mind clouded over with the sense of the alternative, his child growing up without a father. He had their father, which was almost worse, but he remembered every teary Daddy-Daughter Dance Ainsley missed, every Father’s Day gift made in class that she’d tried to casually present to Gil or their mother, pretending not to know the significance of the day. He couldn’t stand the thought of knowingly allowing his child to go through the same.

Ainsley broke him out of his reverie. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that this is the result of a secret but committed relationship with a politically-connected heiress she can force you into a shotgun marriage with?”

He let out a startled, genuine laugh. “I’m afraid not.”

Ainsley was silent for long enough he was afraid he’d somehow offended her when she sighed and prompted, “So? Tell me about her!”

“Oh.” What was there about his and Serena’s relationship he could share with his _little sister_? “Her name is Serena. She’s a flight attendant. We met when I ran her foot over with my suitcase in the airport after I got back from a case.”

“_And_?”

He sighed. “We weren’t _dating_, Ains, just… you know.”

“And you only know three things about her? And one of them’s how you met?” She didn’t sound impressed.

“You’ve got me on the spot! She’s not someone I’d hate to co-parent with, I think.” Ainsley made a disapproving noise. “Look, I’ll give you a full- personality profile, if that’s what you want, _next time_ we talk, if you help me figure out how to tell mom _right now_.” She didn’t answer, but he could hear fewer huffy breaths, indicating her silence had shifted from an annoyed one to a considering one.

“You can’t wait until the next time we all have dinner together, she’ll kill you for waiting that long. And me for not tattling.”

“I could write her a letter?”

“You hate writing letters. Also, you can’t tell someone they’re going to be a grandparent in a _letter,_ this isn’t the 1900s.”

“Well then what’s your great idea?”

“You could just _tell her_?”

“Oh yeah, ‘Hey mom, the weather’s fine out here, also I’m having a baby! Love you, bye!’ No way!”

“I mean you should do it talking like yourself instead of a sitcom character.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Malcolm! It’s so good to hear from you, dear! How are you?”

“Hello, Mother. I’m fine. I talked to Gil and Jackie last night, and Ainsley just now. And I found out I’m going to have a kid.”

“How _are_ the Arroyos? It’s been a while since- what?”

“I was seeing someone a few months ago and she told me she’s pregnant.”

The silence that rung down over the phone line could have single-handedly reversed global warming had Malcolm been able to bottle it. Finally, his mother said delicately, “You have a girlfriend? That you haven’t been telling me about?”

He sighed. “No, Mother. We’re not together. We just… saw each other a few times. And now she’s pregnant.” He couldn’t stop saying it, _pregnant, baby, kid_. His mind was trapped wearing down the same pathways over and over again.

“And you’re certain it’s yours?”

“She seemed pretty sure.”

“Mm-hm. Well, dear, I’m happy for you!” She continued blithely on almost before she’d finished acknowledging the issue, and Malcolm let himself be carried away in the conversation, relieved that it hadn’t become a big production.

He met up with Serena again several days later, at the same coffee shop. This time, they both arrived on time, and they awkwardly stood next to each other in the line to order. When Malcolm told the cashier he’d be covering her order Serena pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow but didn’t object.

Once they were seated at the same table as their previous conversation he waited for her to sip her coffee and nibble her muffin, unsure of how to begin the conversation. She bit her lip. “Are you still here for this? I won’t hold it against you if you changed your mind.”

He shook his head jerkily. “I’m absolutely here for this. As much as you want me to be. If you decided you don’t want me to be involved I won’t hold it against you.”

She shook her head. “Do you… I mean, I have the ultrasound where I find out the sex in a couple of days. You can come if you want?”

She pulled up a calendar on her phone and turned it to show him the appointment date and time. Malcolm sighed, his voice heavy with regret. “I can’t, I have to fly out of state to testify at a trial.”

“Okay. I don’t know… I mean, we need to figure out how this is going to work, but I don’t know where to start.”

He fiddled with his coffee cup. The image of a baby in his father’s arms rose to his mind unbidden. “I don’t want them to be a Whitly.” He bit his lip, and glanced up at Serena. She looked surprised and almost hurt. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, and steamrolled on before she could respond. “I mean as a surname. Not hyphenated, or anything. The kid should have your last name.”

She looked taken aback. “Alright…”

He wasn’t making himself understood, and the words kept pouring out of his mouth, trying to clarify, “It’s not- I mean, _I_ don’t want to be a Whitly, I’ve been thinking about changing my name for years, but a kid shouldn’t be stuck with a surname I just picked out of some book at random, either. So it should have your last name.”

“Oh. I think I get it.” Serena’s eyes were filled with the kind of pity he usually got from friend’s of his mother’s when they weren’t actively trying to pretend that his father had never existed. Then it vanished all at once, replaced with a sort of ironic humor. “Heck, if you want to change your name so badly maybe you should just take mine, then you and the kid could still match!” She blushed. “I mean-”

“No, it’s-” they both chuckled awkwardly and Serena looked disinclined to speak, so he continued. “That’s not such a bad idea, it’d beat picking one at random out of a book. ‘Malcolm Bright’ has a certain ring to it, I think.” And if he changed his name before the baby was born, “Whitly” wouldn’t even have to grace the birth certificate. He resolved to make that happen, whatever he actually ended up changing it to. His child deserved to have as few things tying them to their grandfather as he was capable of.

Serena shrugged. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.” Now that she was clear on his reasoning, she seemed to dislike the idea of tying their child to the Surgeon’s name just as much as he did.

Malcolm scrambled for a less fraught topic. “You have a roommate, right? Is she going to be alright with living with a newborn in a few months?”

Serena’s smile dropped and she set down her coffee put her face in her hands. “No,” she said, slightly muffled, “And my lease is up before they’ll be born. I have no idea where I’m going to find another roommate.”

“Any family you can move in with?” he asked. For all he knew her family lived hours away, and he didn’t like that idea, but it would probably be the easiest option for Serena.

One rueful eye peered out from behind her fingers. “Foster kid. No dice.”

He scrambled for a solution. Judging by the hairy eyeball he’d received when he paid for her drink and her assertion that she didn’t want money from him, offering to pay for her apartment outright wouldn’t go over well. “I think,” he said tentatively, “_My_ lease is up in May?”

She dropped her hands to look him in the eye. “You get that this isn’t going to be, like, a romantic thing or anything, right?”

He nods, “Yes! No, I get it, I just- it’s one option. If you can’t find another solution I’m down to be platonic, non-sexual co-parenting roommates. If you want.” _How is this conversation more awkward than their last one?_

She nods, says, “I’ll think about it,” and thankfully _(finally)_ steers the conversation toward less awkward topics.

Almost as soon as he stepped off his plane back into DC his phone was ringing. Malcolm had never been quite certain how his mother always seemed to know the moment he got off work or disembarked a flight, but he wasn’t about to ask. His testimony at trial for a man who’d killed three of the girls on his daughter’s volleyball team so that she’d look like the best recruitment option for colleges had gone well, and it was with a greater-than-usual tolerance for his mother’s… personality that he answered. “Hello, Mother.”

“Malcolm! I know you _never_ eat as well as you should when you’re away from home, and there’s a dinner for the junior senator’s reelection campaign this evening, so I thought I’d drop by and see you! Adolpho’s waiting for you outside the airport, come and eat with me!” His mother’s voice was light and breezy. Only Jessica Whitly could refer to a trip several states away as “dropping by.”

He rolled his eyes slightly and contemplated telling her about the text Serena had sent him the previous day _(“It’s going to be a girl”)_ but decided against it. Better to do it face to face. “Very well, mother. See you in a bit.” He wasn’t hungry, but he _was_ an old hand at pretending to eat enough to deflect his mother’s worry and ire.

“Excellent!” she gushed. “See you soon, my love!”

The traffic, of course, couldn’t make things that easy, and by the time he reached the restaurant Malcolm had worked through all of the paperwork stowed in his briefcase and was utterly unsurprised to find that his mother had already begun dining. He followed the hostess into the dining room with somewhat less trepidation than he usually felt before a meal with his mother; it had been some time since he’d seen her in person, and that would hopefully diminish their usual level of bickering over his work and his health.

He was surprised was he was led to a table for three, not two, and his mother was seated across from a familiar head of curly dark hair. A pit formed in his stomach as he took his seat between the two women. “Serena. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

Serena’s face was frozen in an awkward polite smile, and the look she gave him could have melted diamond. “Malcolm.”

Jessica preened. “Well, now that we’re all here we can really have this discussion. Ms. Bright and I have just been getting acquainted, Malcolm.”

Malcolm’s mouth turned down in a harsh frown, and he ignored her, focusing on Serena. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t put her up to this, what has she been saying?” Jessica pretended not to notice that she was being ignored, instead opting to order Malcolm’s lunch for him.

Serena’s panicky glare lessened a bit. “We’ve just been discussing the baby. And what to do about her.”

“We’ve been discussing the logistics of a paternity test,” Jessica cut in, her smile knife-sharp.

Malcolm scoffed. “Because so many people are lining up to tie themselves to our _honorable lineage_.”

His mother gave him a narrow glare, but Serena cut in before she could say anything. “It’s fine, Malcolm. I don’t mind.”

He wasn’t willing to let his mother off the hook, however. “How did you even get Serena’s number to invite her here? I don’t think I even mentioned her name when we talked.”

Jessica hummed. “But Ainsley did. And her profession, and from there it wasn’t _so_ difficult to discover the rest.”

She was saved his answer by a waiter arriving with his food, and Serena took advantage of the distraction to elbow him. “Do you want to see the ultrasound? I forgot to send it when I texted you, but I have it right here.”

He smiled. She didn’t deserve to become a casualty of his annoyance with his mother. “Sure.” He leaned over and grinned at the fuzzy image. When he was done looking Serena offered the phone to Jessica, who examined the ultrasound imperiously.

The lunch continued in this fashion, Serena turning out to be almost as adept as Ainsley at defusing arguments between the mother and son. Nevertheless, as soon as Malcolm noticed she was finished eating he took it upon himself to help her make her excuses.

“Not that this hasn’t been _fun_,” he flattened the last word, making sure she knew he was still displeased, “but I have other things to attend to, and I’m sure Serena does as well.”

Serena nodded and followed him out of the restaurant. As soon as they were out of Jessica’s sight tension leaked from her shoulders.

“Sorry.” He looked at her earnestly, “I honestly didn’t expect her to try to ambush you like that, or I would have warned you.”

She shook her head, strolling down the sidewalk alongside him. “It’s sweet, that she cares so much. I don’t mind.”

“Still. I know she can be. A lot.”

Serena shrugged. “I won’t argue with that. No offense.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes heavenward. “None taken.” She laughed at his theatrics and they continued companionably down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on tumblr @inklingofadream or pillowfort @paperdream!
> 
> Next chapter: a bit of a time skip, and some apartment hunting!

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter: Jessica and Ainsley find out, Malcolm and Serena talk logistics, and Jessica is Jessica.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, please comment or kudos if you can! Find me on tumblr @inklingofadream or on pillowfort @paperdream, where I am the moderator and currently sole member of the Prodigal Son community, lol. See y'all next chapter!


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